


Molten Gold

by gracediamondsfear



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Bondage, Bruising, Coercion, Darkfic, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Demons, Dream Sex, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Forced Oral Sex, Grooming, Hurt/Comfort, Incubus Mythology, Nightmares, Oral Sex, Questionable Underage, Sexual Coercion, Vaginal Sex, Wax Play, i guess?, incubus, not the happiest of endings but not horrible, sexy demons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:47:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28394121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracediamondsfear/pseuds/gracediamondsfear
Summary: Before she even understood what dreams were, before she could fully know that they were pictures and stories created by her mind, a second life that came when she was asleep, he was there.*****All her life Rey has dreamed of a dark shadowy man, a ghost, a demon, her destiny? He robs her of her sleep, her dreams, her sanity, using and abusing her in her mind every night. When she meets a new resident in her building, Ben Solo, she's shocked to see that he looks exactly like the incubus haunting her and she knows there's one sure way he can help her finally get some rest.*****
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 15
Kudos: 103





	1. Molten Gold

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note:
> 
> MIND. THE. TAGS, please. I didn't label this as underage because there's no sexual contact until she's of age, but there is grooming and coercion for sure. It's a dark fic regarding sexual demonic possession so I mean...there's a dead dove in here. 
> 
> I want also to apologize to all my readers for being MIA the last two or three months :( I don't know what happened, but I just...completely lost the will or desire to do anything. My depression sort of took hold of my creativity and I had no inspiration or ambition to do anything. I'm so sorry that my WIPs are not updated and I promise they will be soon. I'm sorry for letting it slide. This short piece (3 or 4 chaps at most) is the first thing I've felt like writing in weeks. So...here it is. :)

Before she even understood what dreams were, before she could fully know that they were pictures and stories created by her mind, a second life that came to her when she was asleep, he was there. He’d rooted himself into her mind that early, when her soul was gleaming white and pure, when anxiety and despair were completely unknown. Of course, because she was a child he was nothing but a black shadow then, tall and silent, following her through visions of unicorns and ice cream and perfect birthday parties. He was there, lurking in the background of the rare nightmares full of wolves and wars and amorphous monsters, a constant fixture, a part of her. There were times in her waking life when she could recall his presence even without putting a name to it, like a word on the tip of her tongue that she couldn’t remember. It was in the way she was afraid of darkened corners, or how she cowered from tall men. He was with her in the way she always looked over her shoulder as she shuffled down the street while walking to school with her friends. 

It was on the first night of her first period that Rey saw him as a man - limbs and features, reaching hands. Throughout puberty her dreams had been a mirror of her thoughts, jumbled and dense with questions, processing new information, translating physical discomfort into emotional stress. They were darker, filled with tension and anxiety, self doubt and sadness. That night she’d fallen asleep curled up beneath an old, thin duvet with a hot water bottle on her stomach and once her eyes were closed the Shadow Man quickly took over, throwing her into a tangled jungle landscape buzzing with insects and heavy with humidity. Alone beneath the canopy of trees she was surrounded by strange acrid smells and bizarre animals with features and limbs that were just slightly off, a way to remind her she was dreaming. 

And there he was, crouching near a tree in the darkness off the pathway, his eyes glinting gold in the shadows. It was all of his face that she could make out…just the color of his eyes. The rest was a mystery, dark and alluring, a place she shouldn’t go.

“How do I get out of here?” She called out, running her fingers over the ruched bark of a nearby tree.

The shadow man stood and she saw a glint of teeth, heard an intake of breath and a low hum of pleasure.

“It’s just a dream, Rey. You decide what happens next.”

With puberty came other developments; a constant wave of hormones waking new desires. Once she was in high school she devoured some of the more “adult” novels offered at the public library, the muscles between her legs clenching as she read about beautiful young women being swept away and ravished, held tight by their arms as their lovers’ lips “crashed against theirs”: plunging tongues and thrusting hips, hard, wet, warm, open…everything she read left her breathless, a tingling, shivery feeling she never felt looking at the boys at school.

“You going to the homecoming party?” Rose asked her in the girls’ locker room as she fought with a combination lock, “It’s at Poe’s house and his parents aren’t home. He said we could use the hot tub, spend the night…”

“I don’t know…” Rey said, looking herself over in the mirror. Her breasts had grown a bit, but her body was still nowhere near as curvy and voluptuous as Kaydel’s or Bazine’s. Even Rose was turning into a perfect hourglass, but Rey was still a reed, slim and fragile. 

“You’ve got to get out there girl,” Kaydel said, smacking her lips after applying red gloss. “This is high school, Rey. Time to practice using your feminine wiles!”

But she wasn’t quite sure what they were.

  
Like so many other girls caught up in the throes of burgeoning womanhood Rey relieved the tension of her ever changing life by touching herself at night; hiding under the covers after reading a well worn romance novel with a broken spine or while soaking in a warm, scented bath. It filled her with a throbbing warmth to feel the wetness between her legs, gasping at the shock of energy when she circled her clit, her stomach tightening, breath catching in her lungs…but on the nights when she did those things she always dreamed of him. He followed her through a crowded city, chuckling behind her, close enough that she could feel his breath on her back, but when she turned to admonish him he was gone, his laugh ringing in the air. He sat beside her on nearly empty airplanes or stood at the front of a strange classroom packed with students. No matter what, he was always there.

And with every dream she saw something else, some new detail. She saw his inky dark, wavy hair that hung nearly to his shoulders, sometimes hiding part of his pale face like a cowl, sometimes swept back to reveal the hard angle of his jaw. In the light of her mind she could see the curve of his nose, the moles on his cheeks, but when her eyes opened it dissolved in the morning sun, the whole experience nothing but a hazy memory.

“What a pretty young lady you’ve grown into,” he said, the two of them locked in an elevator she couldn't remember getting into. It was the first time he’d spoken to her, his voice low and deep, enough that she could feel the resonance of the words in her stomach.

And even though she recognized him, the man in front of her truly was a stranger, still not a fully formed man, more of a ghost with blurred edges, a swirling shadow with a wide smile…perhaps just a bit too wide, with white teeth a touch too long and too sharp for a normal human being. It made her uncomfortable and warm. It was as if she were in danger of drowning, desperate to reach some surface she couldn’t see. She backed up to the wall. 

“W-who are you?” She asked as the elevator seemed to get smaller.

“Hmm,” he responded, considering his answer as he caged her in with a single step, dragging a pointed fingernail down the side of her neck. “I’m your destiny little fawn.” 

“D-destiny…” was all she could manage as his hand roamed lower. 

She was fully dressed and yet it was as if he were inside her clothes, his warm fingertip circling her nipple, spiraling outward before cupping her small, soft breast in his palm. 

“All mine,” he breathed, the darkness of his body swirling around her, surrounding her completely, pinning her in place. 

“I…I don’t know what you mean…I don’t belong to anyone…”

Her body slammed into the wall of the elevator, her sight filled with the moltengold fire of his irises, flaring in the darkness. When he spoke again it was inhuman, a bestial growl through snarling white teeth. 

“I am not _anyone_ , Rey,” he said, his breath hot against her neck. “And I will not be denied.”

His hand was hot, sliding up the inside of her thigh. It was as if she were wearing no clothes at all, as if there was nothing keeping him from her, nothing hiding her body from his touch.

“I don’t know you…”

“You will sweet girl,” he said, brushing his fingers lightly over her leg. “Soon.”

  
As the months passed she found herself unable to sleep, or when she did her mind was plagued with nightmares of the shadow man. He was cruel, demanding, dangerous. His words were threatening and joyless, but most frightening of all: he was beautiful, with skin like alabaster and deep, metallic eyes. If she blinked she could see the shape of his broad chest and thickly muscled arms in the darkness of her mind, his strong hands and dark hair, a smile wide and bright but lacking any warmth or compassion. Months became years and yet he never gave her his name, only swore that she was his. What he intended to do with her was not as clear although she could probably guess in the way he leered and teased, touching her just enough to make her pulse race before disappearing, never fully giving her what she secretly wished for. All she knew was that her destiny was sealed with the Shadow Man and there was no way to escape. 

“Rey,” he called out to her. 

She was sure that she had been awake. She was safe in her room, her narrow twin bed with paper posters tacked to the walls, fairy lights draped across the ceiling. But he was there too, so tall and so broad that the room seemed too small for him, as if he’d used all the oxygen.

“Rey, it’s time…”

He crouched at the foot of her bed, his hands running up her legs, his mouth latched to the bone of her ankle, kissing, suckling at the skin. She was terrified, and yet the touch of his lips filled her with an electric arousal, her muscles twitching, a warm prickling of sweat on the back of her neck as he slithered up her body, his lips dragging over her skin as he spread her legs, his movements almost gentle, so slow and measured, and nothing like she expected. 

“My sweet, untouched girl, let me taste you.”

Warm and wet, his tongue spread her open and he hummed against her glistening pussy, sending shocks of pleasure through her blood, her muscles tensing with each deep swipe. 

“A virgin cunt…truly a delight to behold.”

His fingers dug deep into her thighs, like razors cutting through her skin, and while he sucked and licked at her hardening clit the rest of her body was in agony, as if burning from the inside; all the while the shadow man chuckled at her pain.

“Please…please stop…you’re hurting…”

His body covered hers, his hand heavy in her hair, wrenching her head backwards to force her to stare into his fiery eyes.

“Beg all you like, little one…” he said, dragging a sharpened claw over her collarbone, leaving a stinging trail of glittering blood. “But you’re mine to devour now. There’s no turning me away.”

“Do you…have nightmares?” She asked Rose as the two of them walked to school in the spring of their senior year.

“Of course,” Rose said, laughing. “I have one where I’m locked in this castle…and there’s like…army guys…like guerrillas or something…trying to find me…”

“What about like recurring dreams? Or not even that, but recurring…characters? Like the same thing all the time?

“Oh hell yes,” Rose said, laughing. “I dream of Poe Dameron every night!” 

Rey rolled her eyes and looked away, not wanting her to see how jealous she was of how…light she seemed, how free of worry, smiling and happy.

“Forget it,” she said, hiking her backpack up on her shoulder. “Let’s walk faster, we’re going to miss home room.”

Years passed and her sleeplessness and anxiety were blamed on the tumult of young adulthood, her ever changing moods and depression explained away by hormonal shifts. Her exhaustion and inability to focus made college nearly impossible and she dropped down to part time classes, waiting tables at Maz’s coffee shop on the weekends in long sleeves and high collars, completely withdrawn into herself. On the mornings that she woke with scratches and bruises on her arms and legs, her grandfather only laughed when she asked how it could have happened; commenting on the frailty of women, able to hurt themselves even in their sleep.

She drank coffee black and played the loudest, hardest music she could find as she studied in the evening. When she found herself nodding off she took ice cold showers, or ran out into the cold night air, her lungs seizing as she took in deep breaths, staring up at the blackened sky, the stars wiped clean by a covering of clouds.

“Did you think you could hide from me here, little fawn?”

The houses around her were gone, the trees, the street. She was trapped in the darkness with the Shadow Man standing beside her, tall and imposing, running his long fingers through her hair hanging limp in the suddenly heavy, hot air.

“No I…I wasn’t…”

He put two fingers to her cheek, turning her to face him, to stare into his golden eyes. Even in the darkness she could see every detail of his face, pale, angular…beautiful. It angered her how she couldn’t deny it. In her dreams she was unable to lie, not even to herself. The Shadow Man was terrifying, mysterious, completely unknowable. When he touched her she ached for days, pain down to her bones, and yet it also sent a thrill through her blood, slick arousal shining on her thighs when she woke. He had no name, he offered her no affection, no kindness, and yet the first trembling, blinding orgasm of her young life came at his hand, his smile curling wickedly at the corners as she shook in his arms, two of his thick fingers sunk deep inside. There was no arguing the fact that she was powerless against him. It was silly to try and hide. 

“But you were…and you do. I know your mind, clever little fox, how you try to stay awake, stay away. I’ve heard you trying to discover who I am, whether I’ve tortured others.”

“Have you?” She asked, finally finding her voice, furrowing her brow.

The Shadow Man laughed, holding her chin in his hand, tipping her face up.

“Are you jealous? Look at the fire in your eyes! I’ve never seen it before.” 

He leaned in and put his lips to her ear.

“It gets me so hard to know that you want me. Go on then, touch it. It’s about time you saw what’s yours.”

He held tight enough to her wrist that her fingers curled in toward her palm, the bones of her forearm pinched in his grip. When she tried to pull away the world around her swirled and changed and they were trapped in a room, dark and spartan, four walls and a wide bed. She stumbled backwards, sitting on the edge and he stood between her legs, still holding her arm, pulling her hand down to the bulge at the front of his black leather trousers held closed with laces. She couldn’t remember what he’d been wearing only moments earlier but now his broad chest was bare, thick with muscle, narrow at the waist, a dark trail of hair below his navel, leading down to where he forced her to close her fingers around his length. She’d never touched a man before but she knew he was big.

“Go on, angel, take it out, let me choke you with it,” he said, running his hand through her hair again, sending an unexpected frisson down the length of her spine as his fingers stroked over her scalp. “You’ll be such a good girl, sucking my cock until you can’t breathe.”

“I’ve…I never did…”

“Shhh,” he said, the word low and soothing, the rolling of waves on a shore, a steady rain shower in the dead of night. "I know you haven't. I wouldn't be here if you had."

With a flick of his finger he pulled the laces of his trousers free, letting them slide down low on his hips before revealing a dark tangle of hair and a thick, angry cock. The skin was dark and taut, the broad head glistening with wetness. Without thinking she reached out and swiped her thumb over it, surprised at the velvet smooth surface. 

“Oh good girl,” he groaned, pushing against her hand. “Keep going.”

She wrapped her hand around the shaft and pushed down toward the base, gasping at the way it twitched and pulsed in her grip. Was she hurting him? Pleasing him?

“Open your mouth,” he purred, his hand massaging the bone at the top of her spine, pushing her head forward. “Open your mouth and learn your place.”

  
Even on the nights when he allowed her to rest, when she couldn’t remember her dreams, when she thought she was alone, she woke with her brow furrowed, already tense and still tired from the night before. Her friends took note of the dark circles beneath her eyes, her pale complexion and sunken cheeks. While the rest of them moved on with their lives, starting careers, finding love, taking backpacking trips to Europe, Rey did nothing but work. It was a boring office job that was droning and empty of meaning, but paid a generous wage that she squirreled away, as if one day she could run far enough, as if she could ever escape. While she sat at the front desk of the office waiting for the phone to ring, she clicked through pages on the internet reading about sleep paralysis, nightmares, hallucinations, brain tumors, schizophrenia. There had to be an explanation. 

But he didn’t like it when she learned something new. 

And he always found out when she learned something new.

  
“I am not a hallucination, Rey,” he said, trapping her in what seemed like a chapel, stone walls and dark wood, windows too stained and warped to see out of. “I am not a figment of your imagination, or some memory of a childhood horror.”

She sat quietly in a dark wooden chair, dressed in a plain white dress with simple white lace trim and he walked circles around her, his hands folded behind his back. He wore a nicely tailored black suit, black shirt, black tie, shining black leather shoes.

"Who are you then?" she asked, careful not to rile him, not to trigger his anger. "What should I call you?"

"Ah, interesting," he said, considering the question for a few moments. "Perhaps you can call me Kylo. Kylo Ren. Or perhaps your mouth will be too busy to worry about addressing me by name," he purred, his eyebrow arched suggestively as he stood behind her, his hand sliding inside the low cut collar of her dress. “You don’t have to be afraid of me, little fawn. After all, I’m only here to teach you what you need to know…the things you want to know…” he said, brushing his nose over her neck, breathing in deeply against her skin as if scenting her, marking her, learning what she was made of. “This is what you’re made for, sweet girl.”

His lips moved over the skin of her throat, his tongue dipping into the hollow at the base of her neck, his hands on her hips. In the years that he’d tortured her he’d forced his cock down her throat, sucked at her nipples until she cried out for the overwhelming pleasure to stop, stretched her open with three fingers while her legs were wrapped tight around his arm, thighs trembling as she came…but he’d never kissed her...and he’d never fucked her.

There were times that she was sure it was going to happen, times when he smiled at how she cried out for him, her fingernails digging into his shoulders. He would pull back and look into her eyes, his forehead pressed to hers, teasing her with a brush of his lips across her cheek or the tip of her nose. On cold, dark nights he would climb on top of her, easily spreading her legs with his own and grinding against her hips, laughing when she bucked back.

“You see? You’re hungry for it. You want this inside you, stretching you, filling that cunt with hot spunk.”

The way he whispered the filth into her ear made her whine, the muscles inside her clenching against nothing. 

“Do you want to come for me Rey?”

His hand slithered down between their bodies and he drew one finger between her legs before bringing it back up and running it over her lips.

“You’re so wet for me,” he said, coating her mouth with the slick, earthy arousal he’d found. “Taste it.”

Still pushing his hips against hers, he slid his finger between her lips and over her tongue, staring into her eyes, the swirling gold of his irises like a hypnotizing force. Without thinking she sucked at his finger, twisting her tongue around it as he thrust it in and out. 

“Please…” she finally said, when he drew his hand away. “Let me…”

“Let you what?” He asked, driving two long fingers inside her, crooking them forward to push against some magical place that made her twitch and whimper. “Say it, dirty fawn. What do you want?”

She couldn’t form the words, the truth was that she wanted him to kiss her, to hold her. She wanted him to tell her she was beautiful…that he loved her…

“No no…none of that. You have no _need_ for that, Rey,” he said, his fingers pumping slowly, thumb brushing over her clit. “You only _need_ this. Yes…closer…you’re getting closer….what do you need?”

“I need to come,” she said, wrapping her arms around him, pulling him down on top of her. “Please.”

She liked the weight of him pressing into her lungs, the heat of his skin. He consumed her, absorbed her. When he held her she felt small, protected…treasured.

“Stop that,” he growled, his sharp teeth sinking into her shoulder until she screamed. “Feel my fingers fucking you, feel your walls clenching around my hand.” Without warning he slid another finger in, stretching and thrusting. “Come for me girl,” he said, working faster, harder.

She felt it building, her breath catching in her throat, her muscles tightening as the first waves of her orgasm took over, her whole body trembling as he pushed harder, not content for her to come only once. 

“You’ll be ready soon…this tight, wet little cunt will be ready…” he said, easily pushing her over the edge to another blinding climax. “Very soon.”

“Ready…” she said, breathlessly, searching his face for some kind of affection, some sort of hidden desire. “Ready for what?”

But before he could give her an answer she was awake.


	2. Hungry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a note that this is a broad and fictional interpretation of what an incubus actually is considered to be with "rules" and "conditions" that are not actually listed anywhere that I know of. It's...incubus...adjacent. :D

The pastor’s office looked very bland and not at all what she expected to find when seeking help from the church. The white walls were filled with framed prints of waterfalls and green pastures, bookshelves packed with brightly colored paperbacks instead of the mysterious leather-bound tomes she expected. It had been years since she'd been in a church, but the manufactured serenity was comforting, accessible. There were no candles or stained glass, no stern crucifix staring down at her…just a bright room with fluorescent lighting and a youngish man in a polo shirt behind a desk…with a laptop.

“Possession isn’t as common as the movies and literature would have you think,” he said, smiling at her with a sort of pitying kindness.

“No, I know…I know that,” Rey said, picking at the cuticle of her thumb.

She suddenly regretted ever walking through the door. She should have known no one would believe her and now she felt foolish. But it was her last hope. She’d seen her doctor, submitted herself to blood tests and brain scans to prove she wasn’t suffering from a brain tumor. She'd avoided seeing a therapist for fear of being committed, but something had to be done. 

“It’s just that these dreams are so dark and so…real. And they’ve never stopped," she explained. "There’s never been a week of my life when he wasn’t around. I remember him being there even when I was a child.”

“Him,” the pastor repeated, his fingers clicking away on the keyboard.

“Yes, him. It’s a man or a demon or something…the devil. I don’t know…but when he…when he,” she looked up to find the pastor staring at her intently, really listening. And whether it was sincere or not, it felt good to be listened to, to have someone focusing on her, looking her in the eye. Still, she felt her cheeks flare with heat at the thought of going into the further details of her problem. “When he touches…me, I can feel it, really feel it. And sometimes I wake up and I find bruises or scratches on my body.”

Luckily enough she had proof, a dark purple bruise around her wrist like a bracelet beneath her skin. She could remember quite clearly that Kylo had held her there, her arm bent up behind her back as he pinned her to the wall. Now she held her slim arm out in front of the pastor’s face and he frowned, his brow furrowed in concern.

“Rey,” he said, tenting his fingers. “Who do you live with? Your family? Alone?”

“I live with my grandfather. I don’t…my parents are gone…I don’t have a boyfriend or any…”

“Rey, is it possible that your grandfather…”

“No!” She said, jumping from her seat. “No it’s not that. It’s not anything…real!” She said, feeling her throat tighten with tears, tears that she’d held back for nearly twenty-two years for fear of being asked questions she couldn’t answer, for fear of being called a liar. She should have known no one would believe her, how she’d suffered. “It’s no one that I’ve ever seen in real life and yet I could practically draw him from memory. I can’t sleep, I can’t focus, my mind is completely consumed by these thoughts of him and I don’t understand it. He says he’s my destiny, that I’m his to devour. I’m afraid he’s going to…kill me…rip me apart…”

“Rape you?” The pastor finished, sitting back in his chair as if recoiling from the very word. “I’ve never ever seen it in my whole life, but he could be an incubus.”

“A what?”

“It's a demon that feeds on sexual arousal, but also on degradation and humiliation, lust, need. It locks on to the darkest, basest needs in your mind and exploits them in your sleep.”

Rey sat back in her chair, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her heart pounding with anger. It all sounded so disgustingly right, exactly what she’d been feeling, seeing…but…

“I’ve been dreaming of him since I was a child. Are you saying I was some lustful beast when I was five years old?”

“Of course not,” the pastor said, standing up to look over his collection of books. “But perhaps there was something there that…appealed to the demon, something that made him think you were…ripe for the picking, so to speak.”

  
Rey couldn’t remember her parents. Sometimes, when she was quiet, her mind at peace, something that was so rare these days, she could remember a smell or the sound of a laugh, what it felt like to nuzzle against her father’s chest, the scratch of his cheek. But if someone were to ask her to draw a picture or describe what they were like, she’d draw a blank, nothing but a wide smile and halo of dark hair. Once they were gone she stayed with a friend of the family for a while, but then they had a baby of their own and didn’t want to split the love between them…besides, Rey didn’t really belong with them, did she? 

Then there was the orphanage…brightly lit, clean, but cold and crowded. She was given a second hand teddy bear and slept in a room with three other girls. It was like always being in school; friendly and safe but no warmth, no affection. She watched babies and toddlers come and go, sharing happy goodbyes as they left with new families all bundled up in newly bought blankets, tiny hats and bouquets of flowers. Little Sophie was four and had been gifted a new grey kitten when her parents came to pick her up. The older girls were always left behind.

It wasn’t until she was ten that her grandfather found her. He was gruff, no nonsense, and what she thought was an act of love, taking in a long lost granddaughter, was just a man getting older and looking for someone to take care of him in his advanced age. His house was large, well furnished, with dark marble floors in the front foyer that were cold on her feet even when she wore socks. From the day she arrived she was expected to vacuum and dust, get the mail, make lunch, fold laundry.

“Self sufficiency,” he said to her as she struggled with the washing machine, “is the greatest gift I could give you.”

Grandfather Palpatine enrolled her in an excellent school and bought her all of the clothes and makeup and gadgets she needed, the latest phone, a top grade laptop, a modest allowance to spend with friends, and so it was hard for Rey to ever complain. He didn’t beat her or berate her. He didn’t isolate or insult her. But he never hugged her either, or read books with her. They never went to the movies or built a snowman. He was merely a wealthy acquaintance, and one she was beholden to forever. 

  
The night she came home from the church, Kylo was angry. As soon as her eyes closed she was trapped, her arms and legs strapped to some device that held her upright and still, staring into his eyes. On that night he looked like a demon, shrouded all in black, a hooded cowl covering all of his face except those gold eyes that glowed like fire.

“So now you think you know everything,” he said. “You’ve done your little digging mission with the man of God and you think you’ll be rid of me.” 

“I…I just wanted to know what you are…I wanted to…”

“To get away? To run? I’m inside you, Rey. Always. I'm under your skin. There’s no way for you to escape.” He moved closer to her, enough that she could feel the heat radiating off his body. With a black gloved hand he pulled the cowl away, grinning at her with narrowed eyes. “You know I can take whatever I want.”

She struggled against her bonds but they only grew tighter as he closed a hand around her throat, the leather warm and supple, his thumb stroking her pulse point.

“Please, I can’t…”

“You’re wet even now, little one. I can smell it. You say you want to get away. You tell them you’re afraid with your big crocodile tears,” he said, his other hand slipping between her legs, circling her clit. “ _I’m afraid he’s going to rip me apart_ ,” he whined, mimicking her voice while still stroking her pussy, her juices squelching through his fingers as he spread her open. “I don’t think you’re scared, pet, you’re only afraid to admit that you want me, what a filthy girl you are.”

“No…no…I just need…please…”

Two gloved fingers sunk deep between her folds, crooking and scissoring inside her as he squeezed her throat tighter, lighting her vision with sparks, darkness feathering the edges. 

“Do you think you’re ready for my cock, little one?” He breathed, his voice laced with want, desperation, a tone she’d never heard.

The back of her neck prickled with awareness, anticipation, the muscles between her legs clenching at the idea.

“Ah yes,” he said, pumping deep up inside her, still constricting her breath. “You’re ready.”

Her insides tightened around his thrusting fingers, making her wetter, her vision blurring, lungs burning for air as she nodded weakly. He would know the truth anyway, there was no reason to lie.

“Do you want to breathe, my little fawn?” He asked, licking up the side of her cheek. 

“P…please…” she stuttered as he pressed the heel of his hand against her clit. “K-kylo please.”

“Look at me, look me in the eye and tell me who you belong to. Tell me you want me to fuck you with my cock, that you’re hungry for it.” 

The first tightening spasms of her climax rippled through her and she cried out with what little breath she had left. Had he asked her to give over her soul at that moment she would have, anything to keep his hand inside her. 

“Tell me you want me to split you open, slut. Say you want me to mark you, make you scream. Say it Rey. Say you’re mine.”

Her bonds were freed and she fell limp against his chest, still quaking, crying out his name. And for one brief moment she felt him stroke her hair as he helped her to stand.

“I’m yours,” she cried, gasping for breath. Her open mouth brushed over the hot, taut skin of his chest, each gulp of air burning in her bruised throat. “I want you Kylo. I do…please…I do.”

  
Whatever secret imaginings she’d had for their first joining, whatever dark fantasy she’d expected to be immersed in was shattered as he simply tore away the thin nightgown from her body and pushed her forward until she fell to the ground. There was no bed, no furniture, no walls. Nothing but endless dark and Kylo. The floor beneath her was cold and black, shiny enough that she could see her pale and ravaged body reflected in it. The only sound was her breathing.

“Hands and knees pretty pup,” he said, smacking her ass with an open palm.

As she took her position he walked around her, trailing one finger up the length of her spine as he moved to stand in front of her lowered head. His legs were bare, thick and strong as he lifted a foot up beneath her chin, tipping her face up.

“Head up, let me see your face,” he said, his voice strangely gentle. His nakedness was powerful, feral, his pale skin rippling with toned muscle. “Good girl. Come on, up on your knees, I want your mouth first.”

She took as much of his length as she could, holding tight to his thighs as he thrust into her throat. Later when she woke she would be ashamed of how it thrilled her to hear him groaning, hissing her name as she stroked the tip of her tongue along the underside of his shaft. She would feel her cheeks blush as she remembered the power that coursed through her veins when he sunk his fist into her hair, quickly pulling her mouth away, as if she were making him lose control. And in that moment when he wrenched her head back, his chest flushed and heaving with breath, she could have sworn that he wanted to kiss her; the way he looked down at her mouth, his own lips parted as he gulped down air.

But he didn’t. He only snarled and let go, pushing her down between her shoulder blades before taking his place behind her hips, his huge hands kneading the globes of her ass as he spread her open. 

“Yes,” he said, running his bare fingers through her wet, swollen lips. “You’re ready. You want it.” 

“Kylo…please…” she said, looking over her shoulder as the head of his prick pushed inside, stretching even with the first inch. “I’ve never done…I mean I’m a…”

“Yes I know pet,” he said, suddenly driving inside her with one agonizing thrust, making her scream as she fell forward onto her elbows. “I wouldn’t be here if you had.”

His need for her was insatiable after that; every night some new exquisite torture that plunged her into both agony and bliss, his harsh and filthy words like a poetic love song when he fucked her on her back, pinning her knees up to her shoulders, grinning down as he hammered into her, dark strands of hair framing his face.

She didn’t return the pastor’s calls, but she did lock her door at night as if it would help. She kept a crucifix over her bed and burned white sage. One day after work she passed by a little shop with a red neon sign…PSYCHIC READINGS. The woman had gotten very upset when she looked into Rey’s eyes, seeing a web of chains and darkness. After turning over the eight of swords and the ten of wands she stopped the reading completely and without even charging her the fifteen dollars, the kindly woman had placed an old tarnished silver charm in her hand, telling her to keep it under her pillow while placing her cool, aged hands on Rey’s cheeks.

“It won’t lift the darkness,” she’d said, shaking her head, “but it’s something to carry with you as you travel through it.”

At night Rey set timers to allow her to sleep for twenty minutes at a time, hoping not to fall too deeply into his world, and when she was awake, she began to count her money. From all she’d read, there was a chance that the demon or ghost or whatever Kylo was, was attached to her grandfather's house. Perhaps he lived in the bones of the walls, torturing whoever was available. Of course the chances of that were slim and her grandfather had scoffed when she asked him if he believed in ghosts or spirits communing with the living. And if it was something that was simply in her head, some trauma or struggle that Kylo represented in her dream life, then perhaps a change of scenery would clear out the cobwebs. Regardless, she needed a fresh start. She couldn’t hide in her room forever. If she moved to the city she could make new friends, take a new job…perhaps meet a man.

Someone to take care of her.

As soon as the idea appeared in her mind she brushed it away, as if her thoughts were catalogued and displayed for Kylo to search. It was a ridiculous notion, but she’d suffered his wrath enough times to know that he was always watching, listening, and he always knew. The painful bruises on her back were proof of it.

  
There wasn’t much for Rey to pack once she decided to leave. She’d never been one for knick knacks or book collections, and all of her clothes fit into a single suitcase with her other necessities in a backpack. Her grandfather sat silently in his armchair reading the newspaper when she made her way to the front door.

“Don’t call me for help when you find yourself lost somewhere out on skid row, little miss,” he said, shaking out a newly turned page. “You won’t make it a week out there on your own.”

“I can’t stay here forever grandfather,” she said, her hand on the doorknob, eyes on the floor. 

She was waiting. She wanted him to beg her to stay, to tell her that he’d be heartbroken to not see her, that his gruff and stoic demeanor had actually been hiding a heart of gold and she was the light of his life. It was raining and the cab outside beeped for her. 

“Bye grandpa,” she said. "Thank you for everything. I’ll call you when I get settled in.”

She waited another long minute, still turning the knob, but he only snorted and shook his head as Rey walked out the door.

Somewhere in the heavy rain and grey skies, she was sure she could hear Kylo laughing.


	3. White Wax

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alright alright FIVE chapters. BUT THAT'S IT.

**Six Months Later**

  
The apartment building was clean and quiet with a tiny courtyard filled with flowers; a pleasant oasis in the center of the bustling city. At night in her one bedroom studio she could hear traffic and music and laughter from the cafe across the street and she was grateful for it…it kept her awake when she didn’t want to see him. Her grandfather had told her that she wouldn’t last a week and she’d done everything in her power to prove him wrong.

On her first night in the city she’d gotten a hotel room and treated herself to a bottle of cheap champagne and an order of “supreme” nachos from the restaurant in the lobby, soaking for hours in a bubble bath to celebrate her independence. It was a new start. She was a new woman. She would worry about a job later, she would worry about money later, she would worry about him…later. For these few moments she wanted to be happy, to celebrate and be warm and full and at peace. Wrapping herself in a thick robe she snuggled in bed to watch a movie and after her third glass of bubbly, Rey fell asleep.

The sun streaming through the windows woke her, her neck stiff from falling asleep watching T.V. Glancing at the clock she saw that she’d been asleep for thirteen hours. She stood up and walked to the window, throwing open the sheer curtains. She breathed out onto the window to see the fog, pulled at a hangnail on her thumb to prove she was awake.

“Kylo?” She finally dared to call out to him, to check that she was alone, that she’d truly slept.

And there was no answer.

For three days she lived in solitary bliss. During the day she searched for jobs online and toured apartments for rent. She called for interviews and strolled around the city looking for cafes and markets, smiling at strangers as she tried to find her place or maybe carve out one of her own. For three days she tucked herself into bed reading a book or watching a movie, snuggled beneath crisp clean sheets. For three full days she felt the sun on her face as she woke up rested in the morning, and made plans for the future, sure that the answer had been found, sure that she'd been set free.

“Do you really think that I’m confined to space or time? Do you think that I can’t find you wherever you go little one?”

They were in the woods, the trees tall enough to block out the light with their thick and tangling branches. Rey was barefoot in a tattered white gown and Kylo stood before her dressed all in black, riding boots and leather pants, a fitted jacket with long tails and buttoned shirt. His hair was shining and dark, swept back from his face and he was the very picture of a gentleman, black gloved hands folded behind his back. 

She was terrified.

“I thought…I thought you were gone. Perhaps you'd grown tired of me. You’ve been...quiet,” she said, taking a few steps backwards until she was pressed to the trunk of a tree. "Where have you been?"

Beneath her feet the forest floor was soft and warm, but there were no birds, no sounds of wind or rustling leaves. She couldn’t see the sky. It was only Kylo and Rey and nowhere for her to go.

“Oh my sweet, pure girl, did you miss me?” He said, walking towards her, taking her face in his hands and staring into her eyes. Then he leaned closer, his lips brushing over her cheek as he purred into her ear, “Did you miss my thick cock pounding into your wet cunt?”

Her whole body flinched at the words and yet she also felt the heat of arousal pulse between her legs, flush in her cheeks. It was useless to lie and she knew her words would soothe him.

“Yes. I've been…I want it. I want...you.”

For a moment he went still and she watched him pull back, his eyes dipped down to her mouth, his own lips parted as continued to hold her close.

“You do,” he breathed, the words barely audible, “Ah you do. You want _me_. And no one else."

Yet in the very next breath he was a seething beast, his eyes flaring gold in the shadows of the trees. His nostrils flared and he frowned at her.

“Turn around,” he said through gritted teeth. 

She noticed only then that he was holding a black flogger with a long handle made of tightly braided leather and a dozen long tails.

“What…I…no please don’t…”

“Turn around and wrap your arms around the tree little girl. See if you can link your hands together to hold you still."

“Kylo…” she pleaded, flinching in surprise when he cracked the crop against her hip. 

“Turn around or this becomes something decidedly less tantalizing,” he said, without a hint of amusement. “It’s important that you learn your lesson, fawn.”

She did as he asked, her arms wrapped around the thick tree trunk, the tips of her fingers just touching on the other side. The bark was rough against her cheek and she closed her eyes, waiting. The sound of ripping fabric cut through the silence and she felt the claw of one of his fingers dragging down her back before he squeezed the globe of her ass, smacking it with his hand. She jumped and cried out, squeezing her eyes shut as he spanked the other side, rubbing at the skin after.

“Shhhhh,” he soothed, squeezing and massaging the tender skin, kicking her legs apart slightly, positioning her just how he wanted.

For a moment there was nothing and Rey held her breath, fighting against the tiny flame of arousal that was growing and insistent, a strange darkened lust that she didn't want to give in to.

The whiptails whistled through the air and snapped across her ass, making her yell out again, even as the sting of pain bloomed into warm, throbbing need.

“Tell me why you left your Grandfather,” he said, cracking the tails of the flogger across the tops of her thighs.

“I…I needed a change…I can’t stay with him forever.”

Another two stripes, this time across her shoulder blades in an X. She pressed her cheek to the tree, tears streaming down her face. In an instant he was there, his weight crushed against her stinging back, his tongue, now long and thin, curled over her cheek and lapped at the salty trails. She could feel the length of his cock, hard and hot digging into her back.

“I don’t want to have to punish you for lying. Now tell me the truth, sweet thing; and I’ll pretend like I didn’t already know.”

“Please, I just…I was so tired. Please Kylo…”

His hand wrapped tight around her throat and she cried out in pain as he squeezed. 

“Say it.”

“I was…trying…to hide…from you.”

He let go of her, his hands sliding down to pull her hips away from the tree.

“And what have you learned here tonight, little fawn?” He asked as his thick, hard cock sunk deep inside her, both hands tight around her waist, pulling her back as if impaling her body on its length. 

“I learned…” she breathed, holding tight to the tree as he pounded into her, “I learned…that…there’s nowhere…to hide.”

  
She settled into her new life in the city, blending easily into the anonymity of a large population. She found a job with a caterer that let her work herself to exhaustion, and when she woke up sore in the mornings she knew it wasn’t from carrying trays of beef Wellington but it made for a good enough excuse. As she started to build a life in the city, throwing everything she had into proving her grandfather wrong, she gave in to Kylo completely, hoping that if she went to him willingly, if she fell to her knees and begged for him to take her, if she cried out his name when he made her come that he would grant her some reprieve, grant her a night's peace if she asked for it, a reward for good behavior.

At least with Kylo, there was someone who wanted her.

Time went by and as he lead her through a landscape of debauchery, each night was some different twisted scene. He would wrap her in elaborate harnesses of soft black rope or bind her wrists to the legs of a bench and stretch her over the length of it, taking his pleasure from her for hours until she just lay there limp and spent, his seed dripping down her legs. When she was obstinate or slow to act he would flog her with soft leather until her back was a tangle of angry pink welts before pushing her down on the cold, hard floor to fuck her relentlessly, laughing at how she screamed. 

Before meeting him Rey never would have described herself as kinky, and yet every new torture he devised made her gasp in ecstasy. During the day she read erotica that reminded her of her nightly punishments, craving the orgasms she dreamt of to be hers in waking life. Before falling asleep she would imagine what she wanted from him, fucking herself with her fingers until she screamed out for her torturer, knowing he'd be with her soon. Watching men walk in and out of her life, holding doors and offering sweet smiles, she feared that the incubus had ruined her. Kindness and chivalry meant nothing to her as she only craved the darkest, most bitter morsels buried in the feast of romance. She didn't want a bouquet of roses, she wanted to be strangled until she saw spots. In fact, she began to wonder if there even were men in waking life who could offer her the same tantalizing threats and agonizing pleasure as the tireless creature that haunted her dreams.

“What a good little slut you’ve become,” he murmured as he fucked her throat. “Just for me,” he breathed, “only me. Perfectly molded to take everything I give.”

Her arms were bound tightly behind her, ankles tied to her thighs and knees spread wide so everything was open to him and she knew he would take full advantage before letting her rest for even a moment. So she closed her eyes and sucked, humming around his thick shaft as drool fell from her stretched lips. Even as he used her, treating her as nothing more than a toy, she could feel herself dripping, her cunt throbbing with need as she looked up at his body; pale and thick, his legs like marble columns, his stomach flat and rippled. She closed her eyes and moaned, opening her throat to take him further, bobbing forward only once before he quickly pulled out. 

“I’m…I’m sorry,” she said reflexively, lowering her eyes.

He was quiet for a moment, brushing his thumb over her wet lips, tipping her head up.

“Don’t apologize, fawn,” he said, “I only stopped so I could come inside you.”

She squinted her eyes, surprised at the gentle, quiet tone of his voice, the softness in his eyes, now warm and amber colored, nothing like the gold she was used to. Her ropes vanished and Kylo reclined on the floor, stroking the wet length of his erection.

“Ride me,” he said, crooking a finger at her. “I want to watch you. I want to see your face.” Again she was surprised by the tone in his voice, but when she hesitated to follow his order the old Kylo emerged, his voice lowered to a growl. “REY. Come here.”

She crawled to him and straddled his cock, lowering herself slowly, holding back a moan of delight when she was stretched and filled. Instead, she sunk her fingers into his chest and breathed, beginning the steady rhythm of rolling her hips over him, grinding her clit into his pelvis. 

“Yes, yes, oh fuck, are you going to come little fawn?” He asked, holding tight to her hips.

For a moment she stopped moving and touched his face. There he was, pinned beneath her, his features soft, expectant. For a moment she had power over him. For a moment she held his pleasure in her hands. And he was allowing it. She traced the outline of his lips, the arch of his brow, and his eyes widened. She rolled over him like a wave, burying him deeper in her heat. He groaned in appreciation and she threw herself into it further, grabbing her own tits, squeezing the nipples until they hurt. Her back arched as she fucked him, her head thrown back in ecstasy. Then, licking her lips, she bent down to kiss him only to be met by an angry snarl and a rough buck upward, knocking her off. He growled and rolled her onto her back, throwing her legs over his shoulders, the softness gone from his eyes.

“Oh god, oh Kylo…” she shuddered as he thrust into her at a furious pace, beads of sweat dotting his brow, his hair damp with thin locks stuck to his cheeks. He’d never looked so beautiful. She clenched around his length and he groaned, his eyes rolling back as he hissed air through his teeth. “Kylo, do you want me?”

He paused mid thrust, moving to let her lay flat beneath him, their bodies pressed together, warm, covered with a sheen of sweat. His eyes focused back on her as she trembled, pushing her hips up against his, wrapping her legs around his waist.

“Yes, fawn, you know I want you,” he breathed, brushing a lock of hair from her cheek. “You belong to me,” he said burying himself deep and grinding against her clit, “you know that, Rey.”

For another moment she allowed herself to be lost in the bliss of his punishing pace, she closed her eyes and let the first waves of her orgasm crash to shore, her muscles tensing, a cry escaping her open mouth. He fucked her through it and it never seemed to end, her whole body throbbing and pulsing with pleasure, sparks of energy filling her field of vision as she dug her fingernails into his back. His familiar growl of pleasure let her know he was going to come and she smiled at the feeling of his back tensing, the sight of the tendons in his neck straining as he climaxed, hissing through his teeth. Catching his breath, Kylo pulled back to look her in the eye, he touched her cheek with two fingers, his thumb parting her lips. She held her breath as he pressed his forehead to hers, breathing into her open mouth. He sighed against her lips. She closed her eyes and waited, but he turned away.

“Do you love me Kylo?” She asked quietly, pressing her lips to his shoulder, licking at the salty sweat.

He sat back on his knees, crouched over her, eyes dilated. She’d never seen such a thing from him. His brow was furrowed as he searched her face, licking his lips as he stroked her cheek.

He looked…scared.

“Kylo,” she repeated, “kiss me.”

“You belong to me, Rey,” he repeated, pulling himself up to stand over her. “It’s time to wake up.”

Again she woke up sore and exhausted and stood beneath the hot shower for nearly twenty minutes just staring at the tile and letting the water stream down her back. The events of her dream escaped her. Usually she could remember every word, every minute, but this time the visit from Kylo was foggy, just flickering frames of a lost movie, and the more she tried to remember, the more it disappeared.

Life continued. She went to her job and performed her tasks with a well practiced smile. She took up her coworkers’ offers of drinks after work, but knew better than to flirt with her new found friends. Even letting the cute red haired barista at her local coffee shop put his number into her phone had resulted in a painful reminder of "who she came home to".

_"Why would you want anyone else little fawn? Don't I give you what you need?"_

  
Books arrived in brown packages ordered from websites that were hidden in far corners of the web.

_A History of Incubi and Succubi_

_Dark Demons in A Light World_

_Dark Romance: The Psychology of of BDSM_

_Defending Your Dreams_

She read them through the night, highlighting passages, repeating prayers and incantations aloud. When the sun shone she burned white candles and smudged sage in every room. At the threshold of her front door she sprinkled red brick powder to keep evil at bay. There was no remedy she wouldn’t try. No ritual she wouldn’t perform or god she wouldn’t petition. But he was not swayed.

“Your silly tricks and spells won’t scare me away, precious,” he said, dripping hot wax onto the tender skin of her throat. It rolled down the sides of her neck and in the valley between her breasts, quickly cooling into hard, white streaks. When her breasts were coated in thick hardening patterns he let the white wax drip onto her nipple. She plead with him to stop but it streamed from the candle and burned, encasing her in wax. “I have much better uses for your candles anyway, don’t you think?” He asked, blowing out the flame. 

The apartment building was six stories high with four units on each floor. In her first seven months she’d only met three or four other tenants, greeting them cheerily in the hallway, pulling her cardigan closed to hide the bruises on her chest or adjusting her sunglasses to conceal her exhaustion.

Going through her mail on a Saturday she found a cream colored envelope with a hand lettered address...something so formal and old fashioned that it seemed out of place. And indeed it was, as the address was not hers, but for someone on the third floor...unit 301 instead of 103...Mr. Benedict Solo. Tucking the rest of the junk mail in her bag, she took the elevator to the third floor and knocked on 302, running a hand through her hair just in case he was single. 

“Just a minute!” A voice called out - deep and reverberating and Rey’s mouth went dry. She felt dizzy.

The door opened to reveal a tower of a man in tattered black jeans and no shirt. He filled the doorway, bracing himself on the frame with two hands, a cigarette smouldering between his long fingers. Pale skin, dark hair, eyes the color of coffee.. 

“Hey hi, can I help you?” he asked, leaning forward a bit, his smile wide and friendly.

The dizziness boiled in her gut as she took in his familiar features. It couldn’t be...but it was. He was standing right there before her. The letter fluttered to the ground between them and she gulped for air while he bent down to pick it up. 

“I...I can’t...” she stammered, pulling herself up. "It's...It's you..."

“Sorry...what?” He asked, still smiling, "Who's you?"

And that was when she passed out completely. 


	4. Little Fawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not even joking. ONE more chapter added. Six is it. THAT'S IT.

The light seemed different when she came to. And she couldn’t remember how she got home. And her couch felt different. 

“Oh thank Christ,” he said.

Because she wasn’t home at all. Blinking awake and breathing deep she caught sight of the reason for her confusion. It was him...Kylo, sitting right in front of her in flesh and bone. It was Kylo...but not.

“Am I dreaming now? I thought I woke up…I…what are you doing to me?” She asked, sitting up straighter, pulling her cardigan closed tight over her chest as the barest sort of armor. 

The man sitting in front of her had dark hair like Kylo but it was cut short. It was damp and just barely curling around his ear, and instead of a bare, sharp, alabaster jawline his cheeks were covered in dark scruff, brows pulled together in complete confusion.

“What? Look, I didn’t do anything,” he said, holding his hands up in protest. “I opened the door, you were standing there with this envelope and then boom…you hit the floor. And I mean hit hard. Are you OK?” He held a smoldering cigarette in one hand, arms covered in swirling black and red tattoos, chest bare and the top button of his jeans undone. “I’m Ben.”

“I…no…you're...” she blinked and shook her head, trying to wake up again, trying to find the trick. “I don’t understand…”

Rey glanced down at the cluttered coffee table: crumpled package of cigarettes, two beer bottles, cup from Starbucks, a deck of cards and the envelope she’d brought up to him. Mr. Benedict Solo. She took a deep breath and looked back up at him, hoping to see something different, a new angle, a shadow.

“I mean, are you going to pass out again? You…don’t look...great,” he said, moving to sit beside her on the tiny couch. He smelled like tobacco and sandalwood. “I mean, Jesus, that’s not what I mean. You look good…nice…you’re, you look…”

“I get it, I…sorry, I was just…flustered,” she said, finally drawing enough breath to sit fully upright and look him in the eye. 

They were the same deep caramel color that she saw every night, but in an instant she knew it couldn’t be Kylo. There was no gold, no glittering malevolence, no dark glow of sadism, just beautiful brown eyes, like fresh brewed coffee.

“Sorry, again, I’m sorry for putting you through all this," she said. "I just had this piece of mail delivered to my box…my mailbox, and I wanted to bring it by. I actually haven’t met anyone on the third floor yet so it was a good excuse.” She could tell she was speaking far too fast. 

He nodded, took one last drag off his cigarette and crushed it out in an old plastic ashtray that read “ _Newcastle: the Other Side of Dark_ ”.

“Yeah, I haven’t really been here that long myself,” he said shrugging. “Haven’t gotten around to a housewarming party.”

He grinned, sitting back and crossing his legs at the ankle, his body just about filling the room. His feet were bare and she came to the sudden realization that he’d obviously been in the shower, pulling the jeans on to answer the door, something that made her mind wander beyond appropriate boundaries.

“I’m..I’m sorry but do you have a shirt, or something you could put on?” She asked.

He only laughed again and stood up from the couch, walking into the small galley kitchen.

“Let me get you something to drink. I’ve got Diet Coke, half and half…Kilt Lifter…”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh shit, it’s a beer…you like beer? It’s a scotch ale…oh I have tea…hot tea,” he said, opening and closing all of his cupboards which, Rey noticed, were nearly empty.

“Diet Coke is fine,” she said, standing in the doorway of the kitchen. “How long have you lived here?”

“Ah…few months,” He said, handing her the cold can of soda. “Just sort of getting settled in, mostly just hanging at home with the Xbox. I’m not…really...used to the city.”

“Oh? Where are you from?” She leaned against the door frame and took a grateful sip of the cold fizzy soda. It stung her nose and cleared her mind; woke her up and set her straight:

Of course this wasn’t him. 

“I mean I’m not from the wild frontier or anything,” he said, cracking open a beer with an elaborate, bright colored label. “Just kind of more accustomed to small town life. I’m uh, I’m in construction...a welder. Welding.”

She had to smile. He seemed nearly as confused and awkward as she was, unsure of where to look. His words were stuttering and timid. And yet he was still proudly not wearing a shirt, still standing far closer to her than she'd like. 

“I’m in 103,” she said, watching the tattoos move on his chest and arm as he lifted the bottle to his lips. “I work in catering so I’m usually home during the day.”

“Cool, cool,” he said, running a hand through his hair. A lock of it fell in front of his eye and her heart jumped at the sudden appearance of her tormentor; a flash that came and went in a blink. “Well I’m sort of between gigs right now. I have a short one starting up next Thursday. You know maybe, ah, maybe we could go out for lunch some time, you know, so you can say you know someone on the third floor.” 

He smiled again and Rey smiled back. Yes. Lunch would be fine. 

She fell asleep after a hot shower, her towel wrapped loose around her chest, hair wound in a turban as she stretched out on her bed to watch t.v.. 

“Nice and clean,” he purred, dragging a claw up the outside of her leg. 

She was unable to move, her limbs limp and heavy, her eyes unable to look away from his own, liquid gold, nearly glowing in the dark. His full lips curled into an angry sneer and he pulled the towels away, baring her completely, her skin rippling with goosebumps in the cold room.

“Are you surprised to see me little one?” He asked, crawling to crouch over her body, his hair inky and wet, dripping something hot and black onto her skin. “Oh he’s a pretty boy, isn’t he? So familiar and so comforting...and so nice to my poor little fawn.” 

The black tar that dropped from his hair burned deep into her skin but she could make no move to wipe it away, tears rolling from the corners of her eyes as her body was covered.

“But you don’t like nice, do you,” he whispered, licking the tears from her skin. “You know that I’m always with you, Rey, and I know you better than you know yourself."

He slipped two fingers inside her hot, slick pussy, twisting and scissoring the digits as she gasped, her body still frozen in place.

"I know very well what makes you wet, what makes you scream in ecstasy."

When his thick fingers were wet with her juices he pulled them out, smearing the slick over the tight bud of her ass before slipping them inside, stretching her open. She screamed at the sudden, burning invasion, her cunt clenching around nothing, her clit aching as he pumped deep.

"I’ve been with you from the moment you asked and I will never leave your pure little soul. You know that, don’t you? That’s the secret, Rey…I _am_ your soul, aren’t I?”

His teeth were sharp, incisors long like a blood sucking beast as he smiled down at her, his tongue licking a stripe up the side of her neck, the thick length of his erection pressing into her thigh.

“Please…it hurts…” she could finally speak, but the words only broadened his smile. The black, burning tar dripped faster, streaking down his arms and chest and covering her own skin, burning down to the bone. She screamed beneath him, her vision blurry with tears. 

“Do you think you deserve my cock, little one?” He asked, spreading her legs, pushing his thumb into her pussy while he invaded her ass. “You’re certainly wet for it, but perhaps this messy little cunt is meant for someone else?”

Her heart pounded in her chest. She should have known it was a trick. He’d sent Ben Solo to test her loyalty to him, to see if she behaved. 

“I didn’t….do anything. I didn’t. It’s for you, Kylo. I promise.”

“What do you want, sweet thing?” He asked, his teeth scraping over the skin of her thigh as he pulled his hand away leaving her empty, needy. He wanted her to beg.

“I..I want...y-you…”

“And who else?” He asked, the burning sensation finally leaving her skin, replaced by the wet, soothing licks and kisses of his tongue as his thick prick spread her open, filling her like he did every night.

“No one…no one but you.”

“Yes...that's right," he said, starting his punishing rhythm. "Such a good girl.”

  
It was hot the next day but she dressed in jeans and turtleneck sweater, the pink burns from Kylo’s torture dotting her body as if she were a rare jungle creature. Strangely, they didn’t hurt, only marked her, as if he were only leaving a reminder: she had to be a good girl. 

Work was slow and for days she stayed home alone, leaving her apartment only for groceries so as not to risk making a mistake. The lobby of her building was a busy hub; mailboxes and elevators and residents catching up with one another, so Rey avoided the temptation and used the service entrances to get home. At night, just before closing her eyes, she spoke Kylo’s name aloud. She told him that she had been good, that she was there for him and ready, hoping to appease his tendency toward punishment. On the third night a storm blew through the city, rattling the windows with each clap of thunder, the sky dark enough that she had to turn on the lights to read. She'd always been afraid of thunderstorms and she'd never had anyone to comfort her through the fear. Sitting on the couch with her book, a blanket tucked over her lap, she remembered how Ben had stretched his legs, how his arms had covered the length of the sofa. She looked up at the ceiling of her apartment as if she'd be able to see him through the plaster and brick. 

It would have been nice to have someone there.

Coming home from work after a Saturday wedding, Rey was tired and wilted and forgot the rules she’d made for herself. Instead of the using the side or back entrance to the building she dragged her feet through the sunny front lobby. She was stretching her neck from side to side and wondering how to get French dressing out of a white cotton shirt when she saw him again. 

“Hey Rey,” Ben said, coming out of the elevator.

He looked a bit more put together, black jeans and heavy leather work boots but with a nice blue button down shirt. His hair was swept back from his face and she could see a hint of one of his tattoos licking out from under his collar. She shook her head clear.

“Hey…h…hey Ben,” she said, tucking her hair back, hoping there wasn’t food on her face or some other hideous catering battle scar. “Heading out?”

“Yeah, I’m…I…I’m actually going to the Museum of Contemporary Art. I mean I’m not like…a crazy ART person or whatever…shit, why did I even say that…I mean, are you an ART person?”

“What’s an _ART person_?” She asked, unable to hide her smile. His fumbling attempts at conversation were amusing and she liked to poke him. It made him seem…real.

_He was real._

_He was Ben._

_Not him._

“Oh you know what I mean,” he said, waving his hand around. “An art…genius…or whatever. _A student of art_. I mean I don’t know what’s good or bad but there’s an exhibit of sculptures made from construction site debris and I wanted to see it.”

He ended the declaration with a shrug but made no move to walk past her, to leave or to say goodbye.

“Oh sure, that sounds so cool. I mean, I know a couple things about older art,” she said, “like I love Magritte and some of Matisse’s work, but contemporary art? I’d be totally lost.”

“Yeah,” he said, taking the slightest step closer to her, leaning in a bit at the waist. “Perhaps we could go be lost together? Pretend we know what we’re talking about? Make fun of people who actually do?”

Her heart leapt with excitement. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had asked her on a date. She’d kept to herself so carefully, hiding from men, rejecting every advance with an easy excuse. But Ben was just a friend. It didn’t have to be a date, she didn’t have to misbehave. She told herself these things to tamp down her fear.

“Come on,” Ben said, smiling, his hands in his back pockets. “Let me sweeten the deal: I’ll buy you a magnet for your fridge from the gift shop.”

“Can I go change first?”

“Oh absolutely not,” he said, shaking his head, “I have a thing for black polyester skirts.”

They both laughed. Somewhere in the back of her head she felt an icy warning dripping down her spine, but with a deep breath and a smile, she followed Ben out of the building.

  
“These are amazing,” he said, walking around the gigantic metal statues displayed on the first floor of the Museum. “Wish I could touch them.”

They were nearly twelve feet tall, twisted metal and swirling, stylized welding marks covering the surfaces of the melted girders and rebar. Rey observed Ben as closely as he did the art. She’d never seen someone so openly awestruck, shaking his head, pointing out “bead patterns” and “the heat necessary to bend that thickness of pipe”, nothing but pure amazement that he refused to hold back. Other patrons of the museum quietly nodded and took note of the work, but Ben was mesmerized and it was a kind of purity that she’d rarely experienced.

“What else should we see?” He asked her after they made their way through the first floor. He walked beside her with his hands clasped behind his back, his long strides keeping him perpetually a foot or two ahead. “Actually, I’m hungry, do you want to stop in the cafe? I’ll buy you a creme brûlée.”

“That sounds…” Rey’s smile faltered as she remembered her promise, her vow to her captor. And yet she fought down the fear that burned in her throat, looking into Ben’s warm brown eyes. “It…it sounds great.”

They sat at the cafe until closing and she told him stories about her grandfather, how he’d found her, how she’d lived her early life as an orphan and he’d rescued her. She told him about the guilt she carried after leaving him. 

“Honestly, it sounds like he was using you, Rey,” he said, his voice lower, darker than usual. “Making a ten year old earn money to go the movies? Cook dinner? Did he ever thank you for it?”

“He gave me a home…paid for my clothes, food…school…” It sounded ridiculous, trying to defend him.

“I mean that’s what a family is supposed to do!” He snapped. Then, maybe seeing how she’d flinched he quickly added, “I’m sorry,” shaking his head before taking the last bite of her dessert. “I shouldn’t be saying this, judging everything on one conversation. We’ve only just met and I don’t want to offend, but your childhood just sounds so…lonely.”

Her throat tightened as he grabbed her hand, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. She should have pulled away, but in an instant she realized the difference between Kylo’s touch and Ben’s. She’d never let a man take her hand like that, stroke her skin like that. His touch was warm, it sent a tingle through her blood that had nothing to do with sex, with lust…it was just…a connection. Tears stung the rims of her eyes and she pulled her hand back to wipe them away.

“Shit, I fucked up. Rey, I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re right,” she said, forcing a laugh. “I’m…I’ve always been lonely. But hey, look; it’s fine now! I’m fine. Everything turned out for the best,” she said, folding her napkin into a tight triangle. “We should probably go.”

Kylo’s torture that night was relentless. Without a word of warning he put her on her knees and fucked her from behind, his claws sinking into her hips as he hammered into her cunt. Even as he called her a slut, an ungrateful, disloyal whore, she found herself dripping for him, but when she tried to appease him, to glance at him over her shoulder, to supplicate in any way, he only pushed her face down into the hard ground, covering her cheeks in dirt and grit. 

“I shouldn’t let you come,” he growled, biting her shoulder hard enough that she felt blood dripping down her chest. “I should fuck you until you’re begging, clenching around my cock to milk it dry and then I should leave you here in the dirt, like the others.” 

With one hand on her spine he pushed in deeper, stroking over the spot inside her that made her back arch, her lungs empty a wail of ecstasy and he laughed, pulling his claws down the length of her torso as if he were splitting her open. 

“But I do so love to see you come apart beneath me, little fawn.”

“I’m sorry…” she sobbed as he pulled out of her, flipping her onto her back. “Please Kylo, I’m sorry.”

“Always sorry,” he said, dipping his head, his long narrow tongue to licking at her swollen and aching pussy, “Yes, so sorry,” he continued, easily pushing her over the edge into a wailing climax. “They always are.”

  
_The others…_

_They always are…_

She woke in a cold sweat, her body ravaged and sore beneath the skin, the pain like a blooming bruise right down to her soul. The horrors Kylo put her through floated on the surface of her memory, blurry and piecemeal…but she remembered his words as if they were etched on the wall in front of her.

_The others_

There had been others.

And somehow they had escaped.


End file.
